Star Crossed
by Deathless Wraith
Summary: Star crossed lovers are destined to be apart, even as they come together. This is a set of Fuuma and Kamui ficlets, exploring their twisted relationship through thirty themes.
1. Night Chill

Hi, I'm Deathless, and I'm doing the Fuuma/Kamui pairing for the _30smirks_ livejournal community. Therefore, there will be about 30+ ficlets centered around the various themes. I'm also hoping to have a quote for every ficlet.

"Can you see me? Floating above your head as you lay in bed thinking about everything that you did not do…And at night, when you sleep, do you dream I would be there, just for a minute or two, do you?" –from Maroon 5's 'Through with You'

**_Night Chill_**

Kamui was restless in the midst of his sleep, the troubles from his days disturbing his nights. It was the time of year when the warm, late days of summer were beginning to turn into icy twilight, the chill sinking deep into his bones and remaining wrapped around him like a shadow.

He went through the motions of being alive, but he couldn't really feel anything anymore; he was living underwater, the surrounding city blurred and rapidly darkening as he drowned.

Clicking off his bedside light, he was paralyzed for a moment by the blackened room, certain that his demons were waiting for him in the corners of the angular room, and that he surely wouldn't be waking up tomorrow.

He had left his window open as he crawled beneath the cool sheets, shivering until they warmed and became soothing. It was during this time, when darkness silenced the rest of the world and everything was quiet, that the memories he tried so hard to repress lifted up from the depths of his mind to the surface; they whispered about all the things he'd lost, without knowing how much he was going to miss them.

It was during this time that Fuuma spoke to him, no longer the best friend he had loved. Instead, he was the cruel, tormenting enemy that beyond all pain and reason, Kamui still loved.

Fuuma had never said much- that was one thing about his character that hadn't changed. But his eyes, the warmth that was ever-present now extinguished, and all that was left was his cold smirk, the pupils glittering hard like diamonds, like ice. His predator's gaze followed him all the time, tracing his movements as he struggled through this half-life.

Softly, a voice reached inside his sleepy dream state. "We were fated to be this way, you know, it was destined; I am as constant as the northern star, but you, my twin, are already fading away...Are you really giving up so soon, so that I won't even have a playmate to keep company with? You see, Kamui, you're my favorite toy…"

He was there now, the sudden presence filling his room so strongly that the curtains billowed, settling gently back into place. He brushed back Kamui's hair, running his fingers across the long eyelashes.

Fuuma watched him stir before he vanished as abruptly as he had appeared. When his star woke, the reflections of his dreams and nightmares would already have rippled away as easily as lake water.

The cool breeze from the window passed over him, flowing over his skin as ghosts do. And Kamui slept on, pulling his blankets tighter.

**Notes**

"** I am as constant as the northern star...**", from William Shakespeare's _Julius Caesar_, Act III.

Written for livejournal's 30smirks and tempsmort communities. Theme #15, Ice and the Shakespeare Challenge.

Please review and check out my other stories, I adore feedback!


	2. Waiting for Thunder

"Good is good and bad is bad, but you don't know which one you had…Love's on your list of things to do to bring your good luck back to you…and everytime you hear the rolling thunder, you turn around before the lightning strikes. And does it ever make you stop and wonder. If all your good times pass you by…" –Sheryl Crow's 'Good is Good'

_**Waiting for Thunder**_

When he was younger, Kamui used to be afraid of thunderstorms. That is, until Fuuma showed him that there was nothing to be fearful of; his calming voice had soothed him, painting beauty from the noise that rumbled across the land, and the light that streaked across the dark while he lay drowsing.

The thunder had boomed fearfully during his overnight visit to the shrine. He was frightened and crept down the dark hall into Fuuma's bed, causing the soundly sleeping boy to wake.

"Mmph...Kamui? What's wrong?" Fuuma sat up suddenly, fully alert and braced for any danger. Kamui settled onto the mattress, pulling up the covers.

"Shh...I was just afraid of the thunder." Kamui whispered, quaking under the blankets. The pitiful creature sought reassurance from his friend, and waited for the comfort surely coming his way.

"Oh," Fuuma sighed, relieved. He fell back onto his pillow. "There's no reason to be scared. Are you all right now?" Concern evident in his tone, Kamui could only think of how much older his friend sounded. He'd had to grow up quickly, losing his mother so young.

"Better. It's just such a lonely sound." Kamui snuggled closer to Fuuma's side. Looking up into the older boy's face, he ran a hand through his cousin's hair absent-mindedly. "Can I sleep here tonight?"

Fuuma smiled warmly, moving closer to the wall to allow the frail boy more room. "Sure. But the thunder's not lonely. It has the lightning to keep it company, you see? Besides," He paused. "I'm sure that there are worse things in the world than being alone."

From then on, the thunder was never frightening to him again. Kamui looked at it with wonder; then and now, it is still a mystery to him.

Kamui had fallen asleep burrowed comfortably next to the older boy, his last waking thought pondering what could possibly be worse than being alone.

When he grew older, Kamui stayed awake to watch the sparks of light erase the shadows before it fading back to black. Counting the seconds until thunder sounded, he watched through his window for the rainfall. The world would be quiet and if felt as though he was the only thing still breathing. It seemed as though the older he became, the closer the lightning struck.

That was why he was currently laying in the tall grass growing outside the Monou family shrine, waiting and watching for the elemental light show.

It wasn't raining, at least not yet. But it was the dead of night, far past the time when he should have been asleep in bed. He knew that if he was caught, he was _dead meat_. The major tongue-lashing he'd receive from his uncle would ring in his ears for days.

"It's dangerous for a young boy like you to be out late at night, during a thunderstorm of all things! When I was your age, I was up at the crack of dawn, brushing out the shrine grounds..." His voice would eventually fade into the ranting that no self-respecting teenager pays attention to.

…Whatever. Kamui wasn't much for authority, nowadays. He just didn't find an impassioned lecture to be the most enjoyable thing to hear over breakfast. He had promised himself that he'd do what he'd like, regardless of consequences.

And he certainly wasn't afraid of the dark anymore.

So that was why he had climbed out of his window at three am after another long, insomnia-plagued night. After glancing around for signs of life, he darted off to the big, empty field the shrine possessed. It was nothing but a grassy plain, a few thickets and trees dotting the land. There wasn't anything special about it, but it had been a great solace to Kamui ever since his mother had passed away; he had always felt connected to the earth, and it comforted him during the times when he really missed his mom.

The Monous had taken him in, but his mother had been his only parent. Even the company of his uncle and cousins could never replace her. He would run off to the field when he wanted to be free of his own bad atmosphere, his naturally cheerful disposition soured by wicked thoughts. No one ever found him when he vanished into the tall grass, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Fuuma knew about it. His friend had always kept a watchful eye over him, and it was strangely reassuring.

The night air was starting to grow colder and it blew softly across the ground, swirling dust and causing the long stalks of grass to sway. Crickets chirped quietly nearby, the sound familiar and suitable to Kamui's mood. Stars lit the world dimly, and the vague shape of the sky ringed over him, glittering brighter without the moon. Clouds flowed above his head, thinly curled like smoke.

He shut his eyes, finally feeling sleepy. A blinding flash told him that lightning had struck, and he automatically began counting.

27 seconds. Thunder sounded loudly, and he looked up at the dark trees, the branches stretching black against the purple clouds. Mist was beginning to settle down onto his body, and he shivered. The thin jacket he wore was no match against the chill. Another streak of lightning laced the sky. 25 seconds.

A sudden rustling in the grass alarmed him, and he bristled, whipping around to fight.

"Who's there?" His voice rang out harshly into the dark, making him sound more afraid than fierce.

The brush parted; the broad shoulders of Fuuma emerging from the grass. His friend studied him, looking him up and down. He sighed, exasperation evident in his voice. "What are you doing out here, Kamui? I saw you leave when the lightning woke me up."

Kamui's voice was playful after his initial fright died down. "Guess you found me." He smirked. "I always thought you knew where I disappeared to."

Fuuma frowned. "Be serious." Worry had creased his features, which had only now begun to relax.

The waifish boy scowled at being cornered, though he wasn't really irritated. "Couldn't sleep again."

"You're cold."

Kamui shrugged. "It happens." He didn't ask if Fuuma meant his attitude or his body.

"Were you lonely?" Fuuma's expression was unreadable, and it annoyed Kamui. He knew there was no way to be dishonest; Fuuma had always been able to see through him.

"Yes. Kind of. I just wanted to be out here- I feel more at home outside."

"...Do you mind if I keep you company?" Fuuma waited, already knowing the answer.

"No. But I want to be able to hear the thunder." Kamui murmured.

"All right. We don't have to talk anymore." Fuuma took off his jacket, wrapping it around his friend.

"Thanks." Kamui shivered at the sudden warmth. They sat together, gazing up at the sky; Kamui eventually rested his head on Fuuma's shoulder. His eyelids grew heavy, and he began to drift in dreams brightened by lightning, swimming in the thunder's voice.

"Kamui?" Fuuma asked softly. It took a moment for Kamui to answer.

"Hmm?" He was so tired now, his lonely little field far away.

"Can't we be your home?" said Fuuma seriously. He hated to see Kamui fighting the world on his own. Suddenly, he understood why his friend had been so afraid of the empty sound of thunder, years before.

Kamui laughed humorlessly, grasped the older boy's face to pull him down, kissing him fiercely. Thunder cracked down on the earth as they parted.

"Fuuma, you and this piece of earth are the only home I have left. And you're much more interesting to talk to."

Surprised and joyous all at once, Fuuma leaned down to kiss him back. He had been hopelessly in love with his childhood friend ever since he had moved in. Maybe even before then. Being content just to stay at his side, he had watched Kamui struggle to create his place in the world, finding it in this forgotten, overgrown field.

Fuuma lowered Kamui down onto the dusty ground, the wind brushing through the grass to sing him good night. His friend smiled, curling up next to Fuuma. "Love you." He mumbled, slowly slipping into dreamland. Fuuma nuzzled into Kamui's neck, sighing, as he too drifted asleep.

The morning would dawn sunny and clear, the thunder and rain a distant memory, nothing more than an illusion. But the two boys, asleep and hidden in the tall grass, would know that the night was all too real. Fuuma would carry the still-sleeping Kamui into the house; he would watch the hazy eyes open blearily to catch sight of his friend, the smile that would briefly grace Kamui's face before falling back asleep radiating his love all over again.

But for now, the dawn was still a long way off. His whole body was alive, tingling with thunder as he slept. At this moment, with Fuuma embracing him lightly, the world was perfect to Kamui.

**Notes:** A _huge_ thank you to Morella-20, whose review made my whole week (and boosted my ego…heh) and greatly inspired me to write this fic more quickly than I would have originally.

_**Please review!**_ I have 60+ hits on the first chapter alone, but I have no idea if anyone besides Morella liked it. So if you could hit that button and send me a quick 'yo, nice' or 'get your ass off this site, 'cuz you suck', it would be appreciated.

Written for livejournal's 30smirks community. Theme #29, Elements.


	3. Demigod

Demigod- In mythology: a male being, often the offspring of a god and a mortal, who has some but not all of the powers of a god.

"Somehow our devils are never quite what we expect when we meet them face to face." -Nelson DeMille

_**Demigod**_

"I could kill you this instant, you know." Fuuma stretched lazily across the sofa in the empty lounge, Kamui kissing down his neck. He slipped his hands up Kamui's shirt, running his palms across the slight back. They had run into each other on the street in downtown Tokyo, until Fuuma suggested they go to a restaurant upstairs in a nearby building for a drink. It was late, the bustling dining area now empty, save for another few night owls brooding at the bar. Which is how they ended up pressed against each other in a dark corner of the lounge, because no one really cared who they were or what they were doing.

"You could." Kamui said, pausing, running a hand across his kiss-bruised lips. Of course, Fuuma had managed to get drinks without an ID- the alcohol was blocking the clarity inside his mind, and the disconnected feeling made him feel as though the bar, the restaurant didn't really exist at all. "But I know you're not going to, not here." He stated without doubt.

"Oh?" Fuuma's voice was skeptical, drawing out the word in a peculiar manner. "And just how do you know that for certain?" He tilted Kamui's chin up, making him look directly into blood-red eyes.

Kamui's hazy, distant purple eyes were heavy-lidded and clouded with lust; they seemed to sharpen briefly. "Because, Fuuma, I'm giving you too much pleasure to throw away." His voice was strained and breathy, the soft whispers tracing air against Fuuma's neck. "You wouldn't want to trash your plaything so soon, right?" He leaned in, pressing his face into Fuuma's chest.

"You didn't see me before I came back to Tokyo," Kamui murmured against Fuuma's neck. He planted a kiss in the hollow below his throat. "I was such a bastard, like you." He spoke softly, sweetly, biting down on the skin just enough so that Fuuma would feel the warning. "Kotori once saw me break a classmate's wrist in a parking lot, because the punk had been threatening me. She was the only thing that had kept me from hurting him more. If she hadn't been there…" He moved up for a kiss, but instead, he bit down on his star's lip hard enough to draw blood. "I wouldn't have stopped until he was dead." 

"That horrid, dirty part of my soul is still raging inside me, Fuuma. And Kotori isn't here anymore." Kamui's eyes were wild, the fierce instinct to harm the man he was kissing, to make him suffer as much as he had suffered, ruled over all other thought.

"It's too bad you're not strong enough to put that rage to good use." Fuuma grinned at him, his eyes speaking of the horrors Kamui never wanted to discover. It only served to make him even madder.

"You're not a demigod, Fuuma, though you may think so." Kamui sneered at him. "Deep down, you're nothing but a devil and you know it."

"After all," Kamui paused, lowering his hands to the waistband of Fuuma's jeans. "I'm a devil too."

Fuuma raised an eyebrow at him, licking at his lip where the crimson blood had pooled. Clearly, he was impressed by Kamui's new, unexpectedly familiar view of life. And while he didn't show it, he was also slightly unnerved.

"Are you surprised that I'm finally fighting back now? I guess it only further proves it- kill or be killed, we're both little devils underneath."

Fuuma chuckled, causing Kamui's expression to darken angrily. "You're a scared creature and nothing more, Kamui. The only reason you're attacking me is to ensure another day's survival.

Kamui smirked at him, grinding his knee in between Fuuma's legs a little harder. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shorter than the last one, not as much imagery (which I'm addicted to doing, if you hadn't noticed…) Reviews, criticisms? Once again, I'd seriously appreciate them. And another HUGE thank you to Morella-20, who I adore for being kind enough to drop me a line. ;) Written for livejournal's 30smirks community. Theme #4, Little Devils.


	4. The Art Cafe

"Never cease loving a person, and never give up hope for him, for even the prodigal son who had fallen most low, could still be saved; the bitterest enemy and also he who was your friend could again be your friend; love that has grown cold can kindle." –Soren Kierkegaard 

_The Art Café_

It was cold. Freezing, in fact, a point Kamui Shirou was all too aware of. The green bank sign read 34 degrees as he walked past, his breath forming white clouds in the icy night air.

He'd been walking aimlessly up and down the streets of Tokyo alone, in a jacket far too thin for the brutal winter cold. And, of course, he'd forgotten to take his gloves along, the raw and red skin on his hands angry at him. He blew warm air on them, rubbing them together to create heat from the friction.

He hadn't been able to sleep again. Ever since the Dragons had awakened, he would lie awake in his bed at night, glancing at his bedside clock before shutting his eyes tighter, sighing. "Damn insomnia," he'd murmur, struggling under his blankets. Soon, he'd give up on tossing and turning, flinging back his comforter and sliding on his jeans and shoes, not really caring if his apartment door was locked before he headed downstairs, the cold sharp and bristling as he made his way through the streets.

The night held no dangers for him anymore, not after what he'd seen. Pain was only a distant sensation, one that buzzed over his senses like radio static and held little fear, the voices sounding far away and dreamlike. Much of his life was underwater now, and he hadn't been able to see past the surface for ages. No, the worst pain was from the inside.

Oddly enough, the darkness and cold opened his eyes, keeping him awake while he should have been burrowing deeper under his covers, shutting out the world just a little longer. Instead, the powerful pull of the stars drew him outside to the apartment railings, to the deserted city streets with their empty, bright lights glaring along the store windows. Kamui avoided the bustling nightlife, losing himself instead inside the world of silent, lightless neighborhoods. He followed no set pathway as he felt his way along the concrete walls, like blind men do.

A light shining in this mostly darkened section of Tokyo called his attention, as beacons do to people lost at sea. It had appeared almost out of nowhere, and just in time, like a mirage in the desert. A little longer and he might have gone under, drowning beneath the oil-stained roads. The chill from the freezing wind bit his scarfless neck and flooded through his jacket. He drew up to the store's display window, peering inside for signs of life. He had the impression that he might as well be outside his own body, looking into his eyes, searching for the same thing.

THE ART CAFÉ was glowing in neon lights above the doors.

An electrical buzzing was heard from 'r', the letter blinking. It was only a matter of time before it died out, reminding Kamui of short-lived fireflies he'd seen once before, at a summer night festival. They had swarmed around him in the tall grass outside the shrine, swirling up to the heavens in a strange, ethereal dance, the cicadas singing their praises as he stood grounded, gazing with wonder skywards.

He forced the heavy double doors to the café open, only to be greeted by a second set of glass storefront doors. The first set must have been to keep out the winter cold, as heated air hit his face, blowing down through the ceiling filters.

The place wasn't in the best of shape, but it was a safe haven from the icy night outside. He shivered as his body grew used to the warmth, the entirety of his slight frame trembling with them.

The diner was styled in an older fashion, deserted at this hour. Glass-fronted display counters caught his eye, filled with dozens of different cakes.

He was welcomed by a foreign waitress, her natural blond hair standing out as a huge anomaly in dark-haired Tokyo. Her presence in the blue light that filled the room only served to make the diner, city streets, the very night more unreal and dream-created. Kamui expected to wake up any moment now, surprised that he'd actually managed to fall asleep.

The waitress guided him to the best seat in the house, by the front window. Kamui wondered about her, where she was from and how on earth she'd ever made it to work in a tiny, hole in the wall place like this. She smiled wearily at him for a second, just as curious about a teenager wandering out so late at night, alone.

Posters plastered the walls around his booth, pictures of musicals and dramas older than he was. It was strange to see them when the café was so far from the theater district, where shows brought the wealthy from across all of Japan and created another world altogether.

He scrutinized the menu before deciding on hot chocolate and a cake that he'd noticed walking in. He settled back, looking at all of those images, the colors reaching up to touch the ceiling.

A slight tap sounded from the window, and Kamui glanced at it sharply, startled. There was nothing, just the darkened buildings lining the opposite street. The glowing clock above the kitchen door read 4:13 a.m. as the waitress returned with his order. Warming his hands on the hot chocolate, he sighed, relaxing back into the vinyl seat.

The heavy doors pushed open again, then the bells that signaled the opening of the inner doors chimed cheerfully. Kamui was just about to take a bite of cake when he froze, the fork stopped in midair. He didn't move, was scarcely breathing as approaching footsteps neared his table. He knew who it was. The fork fell from his hand, clattering loudly on his plate, causing the waitress to pause from cleaning the counters long enough to glance over.

Fuuma scanned the diner for a moment before his eyes alighted on Kamui, smirking as he watched the immobilized teen shudder.

The dreamlike night shattered as Kamui's heart raced. Fuuma slipped deftly into the booth seat across from his, predatory smile firmly in place.

"Hey." He drawled lazily, reaching out a hand to caress Kamui's pale cheek lovingly, running down to the boy's still-frosty, chapped lips, before brushing the column of his neck. The contact made Kamui flush, Fuuma chuckling low in the back of his throat, moving his hand away.

The waitress ambled over to their table, Kamui paralyzed and voiceless with fright. Fuuma smiled at her warmly.

"Do you need anything?" She asked with a slight accent, returning the smile. She hated graveyard shift, but occasionally there were some interesting people to watch. It paid better too, despite being a little lonely.

"Hmm...a cup of coffee would be nice. Black, preferably." Fuuma added politely as an afterthought.

Kamui stared at him in shock as the waitress set the mug down with a chink. He was almost...normal. How he used to be. That damn spark of hope flared inside his chest, dying down when Fuuma turned back to him with a darkened expression. He had to get out of there.

He had mapped out the escape routes in his mind, but his legs wouldn't respond. Fuuma knew this already, grinning. He lifted Kamui's forgotten fork, taking a bite.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kamui managed to grit out through his clenched teeth. At least his vocal cords were starting to work.

"What?" Fuuma replied in mock surprise. "Did you want some?" He asked, waving the fork dangerously close to Kamui's eyes. "I'm willing to share."

"Asshole." Kamui sneered, feeling the adrenaline rush his bloodstream, making him fiercer. "Check, please!" He shouted to the waitress, who had been pretending to read a magazine while she eavesdropped. Managing to unhinge his legs, he hurriedly stumbled to the register.

"Hang on, I'll walk you home." Fuuma muttered, downing the rest of his coffee as Kamui laid down some bills.

"No thanks." Kamui said as he banged out the doors.

Despite walking as quickly as possible, Fuuma still caught up easily, with his longer strides. They were nearing a park now, surrounded by the more traditional houses and small buildings on the outskirts of the city; Kamui rarely took this way to get home, but it was certainly more scenic than walking in the red-light district, where he could easily be ignored if he wanted. If anything, the quiet of the neighborhood sometimes made his heart ache, and there was little to distract him from it.

Kamui gave up, clumsily settling onto a green-painted bench. Fuuma sat down next to him, stretching out his legs casually, as if they hadn't just been playing a game of chase.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?" Kamui breathed. He was so tired now, world-weary, that he could have fallen asleep pressed against the chilled wooden slats of the bench. He leaned against his enemy's shoulder, all the fight and false anger drained out of him. He just wanted to go home, wherever that was.

Satisfied with the lack of resistance, Fuuma cupped his chin, warming the exposed skin as Kamui remained drowsy and limp as a rag doll. He pressed his lips to Kamui's, gently at first, until Kamui broke away to rest their foreheads together. Fuuma's hands ran up his shirt, letting in the heat of his touch along with the brittle air. And Kamui let him, kissing the taller one's neck, feeling the slight pulse beneath his lips, because he was sad and lost, and wanted Fuuma so badly it burned through his veins. But no. Not this Fuuma, he told himself. He wasn't home yet.

Kamui collected his mind and gathered himself together, brushing off his clothing as Fuuma draped his jacket over the smaller boy. Kamui looked at him warily, confused. "Won't you be cold?"

Fuuma chuckled in response, already moving away and becoming shadowed as he headed deeper into the unlit park. "I'll be coming to get my coat later." He lifted one hand lazily as a parting gesture. "It was a lovely night out, Kamui." His voice died out, along with the traces of his outline.

Kamui shook his head. "I still hate you, you bastard." He murmured, already knowing it was a lie as he wrapped the jacket tighter around himself. He was warmer now, walking alone in the cold night air, the dusky stars twinkling at him. The chill and anger in his heart had faded some, and his footsteps were soft on the sidewalk home. He gazed upwards, letting the stars guide his way back.

If he tried hard enough, he could almost believe that they were fireflies, miraculously alive in the dead of winter. The faraway sound of a motorcycle didn't exactly remind him of cicadas chirping, but he was sleepwalking now, and in dreams, he could believe it was true.

Well, almost.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Please review. I hope you guys liked it. I'm sorry for the long wait. I'm swamped with work right now, but it should get better after Christmas. Oh, and I change my screenname a lot, in case you didn't notice.

Gigantic thanks to Morella-20, my faithful reader, and to Kizune, Holy Mistress, Rei Asakura, and Lyra for reviewing! It makes my day, seriously.

Written for livejournal's 30smirks community. Themes #3 and #31, Hey! and Cold.


	5. Nouveau

"You are still burning/the flame that is turning/my smoldering ash into a bird/so stay close my brother/I couldn't stand the loss/you are the bridge of action/I need you to help me cross/I need you to help me… its hard to believe that I could/that I should begin again…" –Sixpence None the Richer's "Still Burning".

_**Nouveau**_

Kamui, stiffly dressed in a black suit that failed to hide his discomfort, stood alone at his mother's funeral. He was unbreakably stone-faced, back ramrod-straight. He had made no eye contact all day, brushing away strangers' condolences like bothersome gnats.

The fire that had consumed his home had scorched Tohru's body beyond recovery, past even the point of recognition; the ashes that had rained down from the choking, smoke-tainted sky had left a sooty smudge on his pale skin and now burned eternally, painfully, into his poor pure heart.

The guests had already filed outside of the cemetery, on their way home, or to eat food solemnly at the Monou's shrine under Kotori's watchful eyes. Tohru's passing had affected her badly as well, but she managed to pull through it with a vigilant willpower that comes from someone used to taking care of others. Only Kamui was left beneath the gray, overcast sky, kneeling by the solid black tombstone.

It was unfair, he thought, for his mother's ashes to be trapped inside the ground. She had been vibrant, thrumming with wisdom and energy. He wanted to set her free, spreading through gentle strands of wind as they flowed in currents, past the ocean. He sighed, feeling bone-tired and world-weary.

Footsteps sounded quietly behind him. Suddenly, there were arms wrapped around him from behind, and he was engulfed in Fuuma's hug. It was still as comforting as it had been ten years ago, when he'd last seen him. He wasn't sure how the Monous had found out the news about his mother's death, but he was there now, with him. His face crumpled, eyes watering and overflowing as teardrops spilled over his cheeks. Now that his powerful, strong friend was here, he could be weak. It was all right now, for certain.

"I'm sorry." Fuuma murmured, facing him and wiping away his cousin's tears with his thumbs. "Don't be so sad, Kamui. I can't...I can't bear to see you look so sad." His voice was low, soothing, and Kamui was trembling at the sound of it. If only he could go back to the way he was, a child unconcerned and too naïve to recognize the horrors that living could bring.

"Can we leave, Fuuma?" Kamui asked, quiet at finally voicing his thoughts. By leaving the isolated island he called home, so plagued with difficult memories, he believed that someday, he might be happy. He trusted only Fuuma to disappear with.

Fuuma paused for a moment before leaning in closer, fitting his head against Kamui's shoulder. He whispered in his ear about how one day, they'd travel the whole world, flee all the way to Paris, where no one would know who they were as they gazed out at the sharp city skyline in a place far, far away from the sorrows of Japan.

In a last swirl of cherry blossoms, they'd fly away to see the Eiffel Tower, a sea away from the one that stretched above Tokyo; together, they'd wake to the smell of baking bread and travel to the Louvre museum, visit Mona Lisa with her mysterious, upturned lips and black eyes, fall asleep in a hotel with high four-posters; so different from their lonely little futons.

But it wasn't right. It _wasn't_, his mind insisted. Mona Lisa's all-knowing eyes would pierce through them, seeing through their restless charade, finding that they were trying to run away from a life, a destiny that was inescapable. Her gaze would haunt Kamui as they drank espresso at a café or walked the cobblestone streets in winter, pressing him to tell the truth, to stop pretending.

He was afraid of living a lie.

Kamui tried to believe in these fantasies, he really did. But his mother had turned to fire and burned up something vital inside his heart, leaving a spot too hollow for the fairy tales alone to fill. His face twisted bitterly, into a resentful smirk that his cousin didn't see.

Fuuma, for all his loving efforts, might as well have been speaking French.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nouveau means "new" in French.

Thanks so much to everyone who follows this story. Your reviews rock my socks, and I'm proud that I've held your attention this long. BTW, I have a non-Star Crossed Fuuma/Kamui fic up: _The Neighbor's Flowers are Red_, so if you feel like reading it, check it out!

Written for livejournal's 30smirks community. Theme #14, French.


	6. Restoration

A/N: Hey, it's been a while. But I'm here to wish everyone a happy 6/6/06, and I wanted to post something special on this day. I have to say that I was disappointed that Nouveau didn't get any reviews, and I do hope that this ficlet is more successful.

"Let the devil catch you but by a single hair, and you are his forever" -Gotthold Ephraim Lessing

"Speak of the devil and he appears." -Italian Proverb

**Restoration**

Fuuma enjoyed how Kamui's eyes widened whenever he appeared, forming and solidifying out of the black shadows like a creature of demonic ability. He could feel the boy's pulse quicken and hear his heart beat faster as he brushed against his shoulder, flitting away like an imagined phantom; the other shivered, however slightly, and it only made Fuuma's pleasure deepen. This declaration of fear, acceptance of his predatory ways, made his eyes glint vibrantly with the malice that forever curled at the surface of his thoughts.

He reveled in the chase, following his love throughout the night, like vampires in tales of old. He knew that Kamui could feel his eyes on him, but had no way of divining his location. Slinging his schoolbag over his shoulder, he would begin to walk faster under the murky dim streetlights before ducking into the star-dusted forest on the side of the road, sometimes scrounging up enough bravery to shout at the air, telling him to go away and leave him alone. His voice wavered.

He never used to be afraid of being alone, from the faint, foggy memories that Fuuma could still claim. The things that had changed were all too clear for the both of them. Abruptly, Kamui stopped in the wooded path he had decided to take home that day, giving in to the presence that hung in the woods.

"Fuuma." He whispered softly, the word floating ominously in the heavy silence as the thickets started to stir around him, the wind picking up force. The birds took flight, either from the tremulous power speeding toward them or from the foreboding sense of evil rushing through the trees. There were other specters in the briar, who retreated further into the forest as the sinister apparition headed toward them.

What Fuuma loved most of all was darting into his mind, forcing wicked images to swirl into his Star's conscious like he did now. He left behind the residue of his thoughts and memories during these dark days in the crevices of the brain; he waited, watching as the terrible realization dawned on Kamui's face, the proof of how far gone he was, how _lost_, just how doomed they all were despite whether they lived or died, twisting his wraith-like mouth into a smirk.

He stretched up from the trees' shadows, pulling the sinew and tendons of his physical form together from the soil and the darkness. The glorious fear made Kamui's eyes shine brighter with a lovely, unearthly beauty, causing him to become picturesque of a fallen angel captured and held prisoner by the worst devil.

He stealthily moved around the boy, pressing up against his back, leaning forward to whisper in Kamui's ear so he could ask, "When you turn out your light at night, right before you fall asleep, are you ever afraid- even for a second- that I'm there waiting for you, coming for you?"

Kamui trembled, the paralyzing terror making him immobile, the truth apparent on his countenance. He could only stare at his cousin with wide, troubled eyes, frozen even when Fuuma brushed his lips over his temple.

He gave a deep, throaty chuckle that resonated inside Kamui's body and made him shudder; the movement breaking the trance that Fuuma's power had pulled him into. The taller Dragon gazed at him with sharp, clear eyes, the smirk still darkening his features.

"I know you are." He murmured.

Kamui's eyes welled up with tears, but Fuuma, as unshakeable as a person could be, was taken aback at the swift power emitting from his twin star, pushing him away. He marveled at the sudden strength that Kamui's thin body was creating, and his eyes, always so clouded and lost, became piercing as he stood his ground. His form pulsated with newly found energy, sending little shockwaves rolling along the nearby road.

"I _will_ save you, Fuuma." He said quietly, with a power and absolute certainty that his enemy thought had been destroyed. "Then you won't be condemned to the night anymore."

"I dream of you," He added hesitantly, his tone haunted, "And I think of how alone you must be, and that's when I miss you so much it feels as though my heart will burst." He choked back his swelling grief, an emotion that completely overpowered his fear. "I want to spend the daylight with the real you. I swear that I'll do anything to get you back."

Quickly, the frail boy circled his arms around Fuuma's neck and leaned up on his toes, reaching up to give him a small, chaste kiss.

"Whatever it takes." Kamui promised, touching his fingers to the devil's lips. He gave one last, calm look as he gently caressed the face that consumed him, pausing for a second before he turned away.

Kamui walked away, disappearing alone out of the woods into the dark city alleyways, no longer afraid of the spirits that restlessly haunted the grove, begging him as he passed for belated salvation.

Fuuma watched him go, resting against a tree. He chuckled, feeling that although he was the one who began the chase, in the end, he was the one who'd been caught.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Written for livejournal's 30smirks community. Theme #9, Catch Me, Catch You.

Please review in exchange for my love (and a cookie)!


	7. Heat

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances; if there is any reaction, both are transformed." –Carl Jung

"There's something here, in the way, in the way that we're constantly moving/Reminds you of home. When you say love is a simple chemical reaction/can't say I agree/Cause my chemicals, yeah, left me a beautiful disaster/Still love's all I see." –Anna Nalick's _Catalyst_

**Heat**

It was blistering as Kamui walked home during one of Japan's worst heat waves. The sun was dry and burned his skin, the concrete of the city retaining the rays, the asphalt roads blurring as they rose up. Kamui was suffocating, even in the cooler summer uniform.

He dragged himself up the stairs to his apartment, fumbling with the key to open up his musty, closed-off rooms. It was cooler than out on the streets, the morning air still trapped inside. The heat from the sun was woven through his clothes, making them feel dusty, and he tugged at his collar in desperation to be free of them. He dumped his bag on the small sofa in his equally small living room, heading off to change into a different outfit. Moving through the rooms, he paused at the freezer for a breath of cold air, before kicking his bag onto the floor in order to flop on the couch.

"Damn this heat…" He murmured sleepily, flicking on his TV and looking for anything vaguely interesting. After visiting Subaru, anyone would be desperate for a distraction, even a boring one.

He'd gone to visit his friend, who remained sitting without response in the perpetual darkened stillness of his room, wearing his coat even in this heat. Kamui had brought out two bowls of ice cream, which sat melting, untouched, as he talked futilely to the onmyouji. Not even a flicker of emotion or thought had crossed Subaru's blank face, and Kamui had given up for the day. He sighed heavily, frustrated as he headed out the door, frightened by the powerful love that had wasted Subaru away, grinding him down with betrayal and finally, with the death of his betrayer. It could easily be his future, Kamui knew, and that scared him more than anything.

It was after Kamui had left that Fuuma emerged from his hiding spot in Subaru's room, the man's mismatched eyes darting to the movement, faintly alarmed at the sudden presence of an enemy. But the Dark Kamui's face captivated Subaru, who saw only Seishirou in the features, and he fell back into his grief-stricken trance.

"Just seeing if the heat was getting to him." Fuuma murmured to him, leaning down to kiss the top of Subaru's head in a gentle kind of gratitude before he followed Kamui.

The door shut quietly, the air and time slowing inside Subaru's room, signs of life gleaming faintly in his eyes. Fuuma's appearance had jogged his mind with thoughts of Seishirou, but he felt hollow now, purposeless. His heart was a blackened burnt land, ravaged and consumed by rage, by loss. He had nothing to offer to anyone, it seemed; he'd given Kamui a companion, a kindred spirit, but even that seemed fruitless. So he breathed in the stillness of his room, and for now, it was enough.

Kamui's channel-surfing had landed on a talk show, the voices growing faint and mingled as he fell dead asleep, drained and exhausted by the warmth of his living room. He jolted awake at the sound of a door clicking shut, sitting up quickly and staggering to his feet, nearly falling over with dizziness from the sudden head-rush. His skin was burning from sleeping, the couch hot from his body.

It was darker now, the last sunrays outlining his blinds and tracing across the floor. The air was stifling, his vision spotty from adjusting to the shade. Frantically, he rushed through the rooms of his house, checking for intruders. He wasn't afraid of any ordinary prowler, knowing that his powers were strong enough to deal with them, but of other things that lurked in the night.

Relieved that there was no one but himself, he went to wash his face, sleep-ragged and tired. He reached blindly for his towel and wiped his face dry, looking up into the mirror to find Fuuma gazing back at him hungrily.

His heart pounding in his throat, he whirled around, preparing for a fight. Instead, Fuuma's arms wrapped around him and he found himself pressed back into the sink. Fuuma was kissing him and he was paralyzed, torn between adrenaline-driven fierceness and desire.

"Here's a chemistry question for you, Kamui." Fuuma murmured, sliding his lips against the smaller teen's neck, seemingly intent on leaving a mark. "What's one way to speed up a chemical reaction?" He pulled back to look at Kamui's face, smirking at him, the expression scorching.

Kamui hesitated for a second, still expecting an onslaught. He wavered between pushing Fuuma away and dragging him closer, before remembering Subaru's all-consuming grief from his missed opportunities. He decided to take his chances.

"You heat things up." He replied quietly, vaguely remembering the answer from his sophomore class before leaning up into Fuuma's touch, moaning as he bit down on his neck and the reaction quickened. He ran his fingers through his cousin's hair and at that moment, would have been happy with either possible outcome: an explosion or a solution.

They brushed against each other as Kamui heaved himself onto his sink's countertop and they made out in his bathroom, before he twined his legs around Fuuma's waist and allowed to be carried to his bed. The molecules were still moving, boiling over, mixing faster and faster until finally the night had cooled and they were resting side by side. Enemies be damned, Kamui knew better than anyone that his happiness was found only with Fuuma, and he refused to allow his love to destroy him as it had Subaru, because despite his lover's cruelty and the bad memories, he couldn't fight his feelings. And now, when he was focused adoringly on Kamui out of the roots of his obsession, it was easy to pretend that they could be normal teenagers.

They were whispering to each other, saying nothing at all, really, but even the Dark Kamui could still sense his Star's downswing in mood.

"What is it?" He moved over a little, looking at Kamui in that eerie way, like he was the real Fuuma.

"Is there really no chance for us?" Kamui wondered aloud.

"Well…" He drawled, "I came here fully expecting to be pushed away, so I guess you can prove me wrong. Even if there _is_ only one future." He added, chuckling when Kamui swatted him playfully, slightly cheered. Yawning, he threw his arm over the other and smiled when Kamui snuggled in closer.

"There's still time." Kamui murmured, drifting. "There's still a way to work things out."

They both knew that the reaction of their love, and lust, might eventually blaze into fire and leave destruction in its wake, but for now, they were happy with their solution.

"Go to sleep." Fuuma sighed. "Stop thinking about tomorrow or the next day or the fact that it might be our last. And if you can't, at least know that we're both in this together."

"Yeah, on opposing sides."

"Same thing." Fuuma laughed as Kamui tickled a spot he remembered from their shared childhood.

"Oh, I have your weakness now!" Kamui exclaimed, deciding to try and forget his worries for the time being. "Alas, the world is saved." He blinked, surprised to find his wrists suddenly pinned to the pillow.

"Wanna try that again?" Fuuma glowered in mock-anger, pinning the other to the bed with his weight, and then laughed when Kamui made a lewd remark about wrestling.

"But seriously," He continued, dropping off to the side. "It's going to be even hotter tomorrow, so we should get some sleep now."

"Even hotter?" Kamui said incredulously, a look of distress crossing his face at the thought of another broiling day.

"Yeah."

Kamui groaned. "Damn this heat."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I want to thank everyone for reviewing the last chapter, because it really does make me happy. And also, this fic has gotten a lot of reviews for a fairly quiet fandom like X, so I'm very proud of it, and you guys make it possible.

I tried to make this fic a bit more upbeat than usual, so I hope the attempt doesn't throw you guys off. And I'm sorry if they're a bit OOC, because you know they're naturally angsty boys.

This one in particular was to wish everyone a happy beginning of summer, and I hope it's a good one!

Written for livejournal's 30smirks community. Theme #12, Chemical Reactions.

Please review!


	8. Glimpses

"The story of a love is not important- what is important is that one is capable of love. It is perhaps the only glimpse we are permitted of eternity." –Helen Hayes

"Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time." -Albert Camus

**Glimpses**

Kamui spotted him first, catching sight of Fuuma's dark, perfectly round, annoyingly small sunglasses from across the street at the train station. He was laughing with a little girl, holding her ridiculously innocent-looking stuffed frog on his head. He reached up to give it back to her, finally noticing Kamui's panicked stare from the flood of people exiting the station, most likely pretending that he hadn't noticed his presence before.

The younger teen's heart raced. All he could think was, "What if he _hurt_ her?" The thought screamed through his head like a pulse, his body trembling in terror for the unsuspecting child. The words kept looping through his mind, and he moved quickly toward them as if on autopilot, on pure instinct and adrenaline rush.

But then Fuuma lowered his glasses, locking eyes with his enemy, and sent him a cheeky grin that stopped him dead in his tracks. It was a brief snapshot of the old Fuuma, an illusion of the kindness he had possessed. The expression was the same as when they had joked together in the early days of their lives on earth, giggling as only children can when their families were whole and untroubled, their lives unbroken by circumstance or fate.

Kamui could feel yet another piece of his heart breaking, the despair and anguish about to swell and swallow him whole. Deep down, it brought forth a thought unwanted, the last thing he thought about at night when he was about to fall asleep, the thing he feared more than anything. The possibility that maybe Fuuma was only one person, that his best friend and the Dragon out for his life were one and the same. That wishing for his freedom was futile, because then he'd only be a part of his true self, and who could live without having all of himself?

Fuuma, undeterred by the sight of pure dread on his twin star's face, winked at him, and smirking, pushed his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose. He turned his attention back to the little girl. Oh, he wouldn't hurt her, and Kamui knew it. He just didn't know why. A fragment of the old one glimmered.

Kamui turned away from them, because to get involved would be more detrimental than helpful, that everyone he'd tried to save from Fuuma only got wounded, or worse.

"A spectacle in spectacles." He murmured to himself. That was what Fuuma was, and Kamui's chest ached. He pushed his way through the crowded Tokyo crosswalks, following blindly the bright signals, like beacons of hope in this sea of the city where he was drowning. Gasping for air, his lungs clenched tighter, his eyes red and welling with tears.

He made it to a bench next to a small, uninhabited shrine. The heavy chain that locked the gates looked out of place in the peaceful structure, wrong, unneccessary. Pulling his knees to his chest, he drew in shuddering breaths, wrapping his arms around his legs and feeling completely alone. "How much more can I take?" He asked himself.

Fuuma's eyes were still haunting him, that damn smile that made him afraid to hope pinning its paralyzing gaze on his absolute seclusion in this world full of people. No one else could fight his battle, make his choices, share his regrets. He had to do this alone.

Mournful, he turned his face up to the vast, sunny sky, trying to divine the one conclusive answer that always escaped his grasp.

"Oh, what am I suppose to do?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Written for livejournal's 30smirks community. Theme #8, Spectacles.

As always, I want to hear what you think, so please review or comment on my livejournal!


	9. Leaving the Past Behind

"Devils can be driven out of the heart by the touch of a hand on a hand, or a mouth on a mouth" –Tennessee Williams

"You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy to, to save you from your old ways…" –When You Were Young, The Killers

**Leaving the Past Behind (Rejuvenation)  
**

Kamui sits in the frame of his open backdoor, knees drawn to his chest, gazing out to the misty, grey morning. Although the sky is overcast and drizzling, the world is bright with weak light. Everything is quiet, the earth still asleep and warm in bed; the air surrounding him is cool and refreshing. It's blowing into the house, but he doesn't notice, he just keeps looking out, waiting.

The roses by the ivy-covered back wall are especially colorful in this lighting, their red deep and potent, striking against the dark green ivy, their scent filling the breeze. Their beauty is poisonous, and he watches the tiny raindrops fall gently on them.

Catching another flash of a different red, Kamui stands up, rushing down the concrete steps, the door left open and the stove still heating up for breakfast. The exhaust fan is humming loudly, one of the most familiar sounds to him, but he pays it no attention, doesn't turn around.

He makes it to the center of the lawn before slowing down, the grass gilded with dew and rain, the drizzle falling softly onto his clothes, jeans and a thin, long-sleeved flannel shirt that don't stand a chance against the cool wind as it whispers and flows around him. Tilting his face back and closing his eyes, the droplets rest upon his skin like tears, sliding down his cheeks to soak into the earth. Keeping his arms outstretched to the sky, he mouths prayers soundlessly, breathes in the cool air until he feels his molecules come alive.

"Don't you want to come with me?" says the youth perched atop the brick wall to his right, nearly hidden by the tree growing in the corner. He cocks his head to the side and smirks at the boy standing in the yard, the material of his trenchcoat repelling the water, the drops sitting in perfect circles on his sleeves.

Kamui lowers his head and smiles sleepily at him. Without saying a word, without even a second glance, he moves over to the wall, reaches his hands out to Fuuma, takes hold of the waiting, expectant palms, and brushes past the roses as he gets hoisted up, leaving the grey ghosts of the past lingering in his yard to start anew.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
Written for livejournal's 30smirks, Theme #25, To Touch the Devil is to Die.

Another short one, experimenting with new tense and vague description. Fairly unedited,

so please excuse the hoard of run-on sentences. Please review!


	10. A Jester in Kind

"The most wasted of all days is one without laughter." -e.e. cummings

"The person who can bring the spirit of laughter into a room is indeed blessed." -Bennett Cerf

**A Jester in Kind**

"Come on, come on, it's almost midnight!" Fuuma wakes Kamui up cheerfully, peering into the dark bedroom.

He sits up, groggy and not entirely sure where he is. He squints at the silhouette in the white rectangle of the lit doorway, blinking his sleepy purple eyes prettily.

Dazed, he's hauled up off of the wide bed by his smiling cousin and dragged to the living room, which is darkly blue with the neon glow of the TV. Plopping on the couch, he rubs his eyes and sighs, his mind gearing up to focus on the present.

"Something wrong?" Fuuma asks, his eyes warm with concern. Kamui curls against him, resting his head on the broad shoulder, folding his legs adjacent to Fuuma.

"I just had the strangest dream." Kamui murmurs, burrowing his face against his cousin's neck, nuzzling him happily. "It was 1999, and you and I were fighting to decide the end of the world, and you were evil, and…it was so awful. It all felt so _real_." He shudders. "I couldn't do anything."

Fuuma pauses, then bursts into a ripple of deep, familiar chuckles. "That could never happen. We were only seventeen, then." He smiles. "You weren't hyped up on medicine or coffee before you fell asleep, were you?"

"No," Kamui says indignantly, swatting at him playfully. "Always assuming the worst of me."

"Well, you haven't given me a reason not to." Fuuma laughs. "Remember Christmas before last? I still can't believe you gave me those boxers to open in front of my father."

"Oh yeah." Kamui is shaking with mirth, wiping tears from his eyes. He's running low on the air required to laugh, his shoulders trembling with the need to. His happiness is bubbling up within him, rising and swirling like dandelion puffs in the summer wind.

"Shh, the countdown's starting." Fuuma gazes intently at the TV screen, where Tokyo Tower is brightly lit, the area around it crowded with people in a bizarre mix of modern fashion and traditional kimonos celebrating the last moments of the year. The two count down the final seconds together, warm and happy and _living_.

An explosion of streamers arcs above the crowd, loud cheers erupting from their unconcerned minds. The night is glittering with stars.

They turn their attention away from the TV, to each other.

"So, where's my New Year's kiss?" Kamui demands, a cocky smirk decorating his face. "It's tradition, you know, and since you're the only one here, I guess you'll have to do."

"Shut up." Fuuma leans in, smiling into their kiss, this loving joy they both share.

"Do you want to stay here, or go to the shrines?" Fuuma asks as Kamui stretches back out languidly.

"I think I'd rather go back to bed," Kamui grins invitingly, pressing closer against the warm body next to him, letting out a girlish squeal of surprise as Fuuma easily scoops him up and carries him haphazardly to down the hall to their shared bedroom.

They disappear behind the door, enclosed into their own world, loving together to start a new day, a new year, where their future is unmarred by the bounds of circumstance and fate, where possibilities are endless. The year stretches out, like a dream of sunshine and time, long and alluring before them.

That road, this** journey**, begins today.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Happy New Year's, everyone! I pray that it will be a wonderful year for everybody, despite the hardships that are inevitable in life.

As always, please review.

Written for livejournal's 30smirks community, Theme #1, Laughter.


	11. The Darkest of Your Days

"It's time the tale were told of how you took a child and you made him old." -The Smiths

"To rid ourselves of our shadows - who we are - we must step into either total light or total darkness" -Jeremy Preston Johnson

**The Darkest of your Days**

"You say that you have had a traumatic experience, Mr. Shirou?" The psychologist, a woman, asked him. There were pictures on her desk, happy smiles facing him, but detail was lost to his vision, nowadays. The world through his eyes was only muddled inkblots. Words, he could hear. He chuckled bitterly at hers, face lowered, a miasma of self-loathing and hatred against this world that had left him so lost boiling powerfully in him.

The one reality he could see clearly was the one in his head, the one that years of therapy could never scratch.

"You could never understand my pain!" Kamui hissed violently, his face twisted into a snarl, shaking. "Only he can, the one who caused it all…" His voice drifted off, sinking, but his knuckles were white, gripping the arms of his chair. His attention focused wildly on something out the window, his heart pounding, the sound loud, like a jackrabbit on a desert evening.

Suddenly, his head snapped back as sharply as if someone had yanked his hair. The boy's eyes struggled desperately to focus on a spot on the ceiling.

"No…" A weak, guttural moan. "NO!" Panic flew into his voice as his arms shot out, flailing. "Fuuma, no!" He shrieked as the psychologist edged away, grabbing for her emergency microphone.

"Security! My patient's becoming unstable, I need someone in here!"

A heaviness settled on the air, like the feeling of electricity, little pulses shocking the room. Everything metal started shaking, papers flying off the desk. The psychologist stood stunned, frightened, holding her mic limply.

"Stop!" Kamui wailed, the surroundings becoming a maelstrom to match his emotions. "Kotori, Kotori!"

A guard ran in, a syringe wielded in his fist, as he wrangled an arm and pierced Kamui none-too-delicately.

"Ah." He groaned, eyes fluttering shut, falling liquidly out of his chair to hit the ground, asleep.

XXX

Everything was jumbled.

Usually, he was a sullen, angry teenager, an attractive boy all the same, his fragility earning the early affection of the nurses. But he was subjective to enormous psychotic episodes, which easily took weeks to recover from. He had little known history, and no living family.

He had triggers, minor things that set off an earthquake of an emotional meltdown. Doctors didn't know if he could ever fully function outside of the center's walls.

One of these triggers was the sight of birds.

Sometimes, a shadow of his past self came out, usually when he was settled enough to talk with Subaru, still living out in the world, whose own grief hadn't quite progressed to Kamui's stage. But the young Savior's mind was so fragmented that he would only be truly present for only a few minutes, before his mind turned in on itself, to that past that he had no choice in, the thoughts of which consumed him.

XXX

The last of these psychotic episodes occurred one night, with bad weather raging outside as Kamui tried to focus on his book through the dim light. He glanced up, spotting a visitor in the frame of his open door. He froze and began to shake, terrified at the sight of the red trenchcoat and the sound of heavy footsteps coming to meet him. A hand caressed his cheek.

"You can't do this." Kamui's eyes were wide, streaming with tears, the droplets trickling down the hand. Lips came down to press against his.

Fuuma kissed him harder, then turned to leave, making his way out of the room.

"Please stay." Kamui's countenance was frantic and wild. "Stay with me, please!" He pleaded. _'I don't want to be alone...'_rang through his mind.

Fuuma gazed at him for a long moment before his face crinkled into a smirk. His eyes narrowed, the door swinging shut before him and leaving the room darkened. Kamui's body sagged like a ragdoll against the other side of the door, and he moaned, harsh wails of anguish howling out of him, clawing ferociously at the thick wood until there was blood in the grooves he had etched.

"You can't leave me alone anymore!" He shrieked in full-blown insanity, pounding against it, blood dripping down his arms.

Two doctors passing by his room overheard his screams, pausing to exchange cryptic looks.

"Dreaming about his friend again, right?" One doctor said impatiently.

"Isn't he always?" The other replied. He unlocked the medicine closet, searching for something to subdue the wretched cries. Many other patients at this ward were similar, but the young boy always gave him shivers.

"Has he had any visitors?" The first doctor asked.

"Not today." Came the hurried and muffled answer. A blood-curdling scream sounded from behind door 419. He moved a little faster. "But you're right. He does seem to be worse on days without visitors. That one man, in the white trenchcoat, comes often enough; but by the looks of it, he should be in a room here as well."

"Really? How so?"

"He just seems...off. Not connected to the world the way we are, you know? It's odd though, because I think they find some solace in each other. Kindred spirits-type thing, I suppose."

Lightning flashed outside Kamui's window, and a piercing howl rang in response. The doctor remembered how his patient always seemed to react badly to stormy weather.

Jiggling open the lock, the other doctor stood guard at the door while he made his way into the dark room. Kamui stared at him with panicked eyes, but, the doctor realized with a shiver, he never saw the man in front of him at all. His screams had died into whimpers as he huddled on the floor.

"You can't do this to me anymore." Kamui said more calmly, tears falling rapidly onto the floorboards, clouding his voice. "You understand, don't you, Fuuma?"

"Yes, I understand completely." The doctor said, though he really didn't understand anything at all. He reached for Kamui's injured arm, the boy drawing back slightly at the touch. Thankfully, he didn't lash out.

The injection flooded Kamui's veins as he slumped fully onto the ground. Finally, he could feel nothing but blessed cold emptiness, going under again.

He called out to Fuuma one last time, though there was no response. There never was. After all, Fuuma was dead.

Always, before he shut his eyes, he could almost touch him. He just couldn't reach far enough.

"You can't leave me anymore."

He closed his eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Please review. I really do appreciate them.

Hmm. I feel bad for Kamui always bearing the brunt of this fic's angst. He's such a poor little thing.

Written for Livejournal's 30smirks community. Theme #2, You Can't Do This.


	12. Breaking Bridges

This is a **side story **to my last ficlet, _The Darkest of Your Days_. I apologize if you didn't like that one (now being stuck with an attachment to it), but I'll try to have a new piece of Star Crossed up soon.

Special thanks to Morella, who inspired me to continue on with that verse; though I doubt I could do anymore ficlets to it, after this one.

xxx

"Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody can make it out here alone" -Maya Angelou

"The grave is but a covered bridge leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!" -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

**Breaking Bridges**

"How have you been?" Kamui asks, settling gingerly into the visitor armchairs. Subaru looks him up and down, scrutinizing his condition. He's so painfully thin, wasted now, frail, breakable. They had had so much time. He gives Subaru a wan smile and picks ashamedly at the armrest.

"I've been." Subaru half-smiles back at him, expression containing no real joy. He lives alone, sleeps alone, eats occasionally and avoids daylight, blackout curtains tacked to his window to keep it out. Sunshine's unnecessary; he works the graveyard shift now.

Sometimes, he sits in the dark and stares and tries to breathe loudly enough to know he's still alive.

"...It's day by day." Kamui says after thinking of his response. "They like to tell me that, anyways. And here I thought I wouldn't have any more battles to fight."

Said innocently, but this statement sets off warning bells in Subaru's head when he remembered just how delicate the Saviour's mindframe was, that anything could tip the balance into madness, into personal hell. But it was too late, he thinks desperately, too late as Kamui's vision turns inward, sucking his soul back to remember those terrible, godforsaken days.

"Kamui? Stay with me, stay here." Subaru asks, worried and cautious. A clatter as he knocks over his chair in his hurry to stand. "Kamui!"

"Oh God." The boy murmurs, eyes wide, blank, horrified at the scenes playing over for him. His hands fly up to clutch his hair tightly, his fists twisting the strands. Sobs quietly wrack his entire body, and eventually he can't breathe, just cries and gasps until he runs out of sustainable air, fainting as he slumps over in his seat.

Subaru lays him out on a couch and finds a medical blanket nearby to spread over his friend. He doesn't bother to alert the nurses before he heads out the psych ward exit, the guards locking the doors heavily, definitely behind him. He feels immersed in lake water, alienated, now that his last connection to this world is breaking, lost to despair.

He wanders around the closed city until the late stretch of night, the coldest, darkest time of any day, in any world. Passing by empty alleyways and hollow storefronts, he shifts his gaze grimly ahead, footstep by footstep. He pauses long enough to lean against a building and smoke a cigarette, gazing up at the lit tower in the distance. Dim streetlights circle and dance in the puddles left from recent rain, gathered up in the shallow passageways of the city. His visible breath and the floating smoke mingle in the cold air as he exhales. He thinks about a question he had once heard long ago.

"Oh, I never used to hate Tokyo." He answers sadly, stubbing out the filter against the brick beside him, dropping it to the ground. "Not before you." And continues on his way.

He struggles. He's tired, so tired, completely hopeless against this night, this overwhelming darkness. How can he fight still? For what purpose, what war? What end?

At long last, he returns to Rainbow Bridge, newly reconstructed after 10 long months. He can't believe that he has made it this long. There are no cars at this dead time of night, no one outside. He leans off of it, staring down into the black abyss of deep, deathly cold water. He feels a movement against his hands and glances down, surprised, realization dawning upon him. He smiles, a real one, and looks up at the night sky, the clouds having cleared, moon reflected in the horizon of the bay; the only light haunting out here on the bridge.

The railing, although it should be safe, should be secure, loosens slightly as he rests his weight on it. Finally, he feels the ties around him, these chains of grief and loss that bind him to the outer world fall slack, and he doesn't fight when the railing gives out beneath him, as he

falls  
falls   
falls

. . . . . . . . . . . into that cold water  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . drowning into Seishirou  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . and memory  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .and finally  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . at last  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . feels peace.

xxx

Please review and tell me what you thought. I really do always appreciate it.


	13. The Door Into Summer

"Well we know, I'm going away and how I wish- I wish it weren't so. So take this wine, and drink with me- let's delay our misery.

Save tonight, and fight the break of dawn, come tomorrow- tomorrow I'll be gone

Tomorrow comes with one desire: to take me away, oh it's true.

I wish that I, that I could stay, but you know I've got to go, oh, and Lord I wish it wasn't so.

Tomorrow I'll be gone." –Save Tonight, Eagle Eye Cherry

**The Door into Summer**

"Don't go," Fuuma says, gazing at Kamui with pleading, desperate eyes.

"I have to." His opposite's lilac-colored eyes soften. "There's no more time left."

"Please, stay with me, just a little while longer." Fuuma asks, knowing perfectly well that he's begging.

"All right," Kamui placates. "But just for a minute."

They're in an isolated apartment on CLAMP Gakuen's enormous campus. The summer day is beginning to dawn outside the bedroom's sole, open window, unshielded by blinds or curtains. There's no one outside this early by the beautiful square of landscaping their window is privy to; it's a special, tiny park that was recently created, somewhat distant from the main heart of campus.

Even the spring this year had been cold, and it's just getting warm enough that the wildflowers are bursting into bloom everywhere, and tall grass sprouts around the perimeter of their building.

Landscapers come around here less often, due to Nokoru's request that this area be different and more natural, hidden away; only one long dirt pathway runs outside their window and the park, snaking up the hill to the university.

Kamui climbs up on top of Fuuma, warmly enclosed in the thermal blanket that he's wearing draped around his shoulders as he settles onto the bigger man's hips. He takes a moment to watch the first rays of sunlight spread across the park, and in the distance beyond it, the earthy brick buildings of the college. The sky was lifting from its dark blues, into a beautiful mix of orange and pink and the faintest light blue.

Leaning over awkwardly, he plants a long, slow kiss on Fuuma's lips, then gazes at him sadly, lovingly. "I really do have to go."

"All right." Fuuma resigns himself with even more sorrow. "You'll be here tonight, won't you?"

Kamui smiles wistfully. "Of course. I'll always come back to you." He nuzzles Fuuma's cheek with his nose, kisses his ear softly.

Fuuma pulls himself into a sitting position, Kamui sinking further down into his lap, pressed against his abdomen. He reaches large hands behind Kamui's neck and draws him into yet another kiss. "I'll miss you today." He murmurs against his ear.

"You know where to find me." Kamui says, trying to sound nonchalant even when his voice catches slightly, choking with a mix of sadness and physical bliss. He tilts his head instinctively to give Fuuma more room to lay a trail of kisses. "Shh, stop that." He whispers urgently. "It's almost time."

"I'm sorry," Fuuma murmurs in anguish as he lowers his hand from its clasp in Kamui's hair, glances outside at the advancing light. "I wish I could fight it." He buries his face in the junction between Kamui's throat and shoulder, taking in the last few breaths he could get of his lover's skin.

"We're done with fighting." The savior smiles and brushes his scarred palm down the back of Fuuma's neck and spine, smirking as he feels him shiver. His eyes widen, lips fall slightly open as sunlight moves across the wall, filtering through their window, onto their bedcover, and finally, so achingly slowly, through Kamui's now transparent form.

"Ah," he sighs, the solidness of his body becoming intangible with illumination, like a distant ethereal hologram, his outline swirling, fading from crystal to fog to mist, eventually dwindling down to a few drops of dew that sparkle on Fuuma's now empty hands, a cool breeze kissing his face as it rustles through the window to the park where Kamui's body lies buried beneath a tree.

This is the price Kamui has paid for him. He had died to bring Fuuma back from the depths of the Dragon's mind, but his spirit had remained with him- that was the older boy's Wish.

Now Kamui belonged to him at night, as soon as the moon rose, sweet and soft as the stars that joined around it, their essences mingling in the evening air, and his lover vanished as the darkness dimmed and daylight grew harsh and bright, his soul floating out their window to rest inside the park.

Fuuma watches for dusk and the glowing lights that rise above the trees, erratic and beautiful as a million fireflies as they swarm and gather outside his window, carried over from the park, merging into the body of his star.

He lays in bed for a moment, suffering his painful morning solitude, before he gets up to wait for (at last) nighttime, for his arms to reach him, a ghost, a beloved memory, an ever-flickering love.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Written for livejournal's 30smirks community, Theme #26, Under your Skin, and Bonus Theme #33, Shiny.

Please review! I'm sorry that I took forever to update, my life's been hectic.


	14. The Foreseeable Future

"You swear you recall…nothing at all, that could make you come back down. You made up your mind to leave it all behind, You fall away from your past but it's following you" –The Fray, "Fall Away"

"Just say that we agree and then never change

And suddenly I become a part of your past  
I'm becoming the part that don't last  
I'm losing you and its effortless" –The Fray, "Over My Head"

The Foreseeable Future 

It had been a long time since they had gotten together, beginning with that first kiss the night after her funeral. Fuuma remembered that night, vividly. It was as though they were so drawn to each other that attempting to pull away would crush their very being, butterflies to the wheel. All the lights were off, a sole candle aflame in his bedroom, Kamui's skin illuminated by the firelight, his eyes dark with the dimness as he reached up to grasp his cousin's face.

Kotori had died suddenly due to complications from her weak heart when she was eighteen, just a few years after the Monou siblings lost their father. Losing all of their family made the two boys stand on level ground, facing their future together as orphans. They had always had other people, distractions, to get them through the years of agonizing loneliness. But that night Fuuma had pulled Kamui to him, desperate for him, and they'd never been separated since.

They lived together after the shrine was taken over by the city for historical preservation. They moved into a good-sized one-bedroom apartment on the quieter outskirts of Tokyo. The neighbors thought innocently of them, they knew, though their relationship was anything but pure.

Kamui was finishing up college while Fuuma was training to become a history teacher. They would meet for lunch during the week, Fuuma dressed in his white shirt and tie, a blazer hanging lopsided off his chair, while Kamui was garbed in grungy student wear, his thin messenger bag laying next to him as they slurped ramen together loudly and cheerfully, sharing conversations that only people who've known each other their whole lifetime can keep up with, the winding intimacies of their lives known inch-by-inch.

People around them smile at their banter, or from hearing Kamui poke fun at 'handsome Monou-sensei being chased by all the girls' without noticing the lock of his eyes with his companion's, an intense stare that screams 'You belong to me and me alone' matched from both sides.

They made time to gather at independent coffeehouses scattered all throughout Tokyo, when Kamui had late classes and Fuuma got off early. Kamui usually ordered a café au lait with more milk than coffee, and nearly more sugar than milk. Fuuma stuck with a dry cappuccino, so horribly bitter than Kamui had spat it out when he tried it.

"How can you drink this stuff?" He scrunched up his face in disgust, foam dripping down his chin as he held the drink further out. Fuuma had cracked up laughing, taking his handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the other's chin gently, the act oddly intimate. Kamui gazed up at him with softened eyes, before he turned away and glanced at Fuuma sideways, grinning a little too overenthusiastically. "You're gonna be a great teacher, Fuuma." He had said, but his eyes and voice were tinged with sadness.

They spent most of their spare time in the privacy of home, Kamui reaching over Fuuma, purposely brushing his thigh to grab the remote, smirking, or talking and joking as they did the dishes, Fuuma snapping a towel at Kamui's ass in a very unscholarly manner.

"Jock!" Kamui yelled at him, an old high school taunt, and started a chase throughout the apartment that ended, more or less always, with him getting tackled onto their bed.

But sometimes, for the briefest of moments, he'd catch Kamui gazing at him as a wave of unbearable sorrow passed over his face.

"What?" Fuuma asked, but it was already gone, Kamui shaking his head.

"It's nothing important. I was just thinking..." He said, and walked up to his lover, drawing down his head for a kiss. "About how happy I am to be here with you."

In the evenings, they would rent videos and watch them on the couch together, take-out cartons steaming on the coffee table, until Kamui became restless or sleepy, turning his attention to his cousin. One touch, and Fuuma would shut off the TV, pick him up and carry him to the bedroom, the slighter boy curling his arms and legs around him like ivy, undoing Fuuma's tie on the way, blazer shedding from his shoulders, his feather-light kisses quickly becoming more frantically passionate.

The mornings were peaceful and cozy, with Kamui constantly pestering Fuuma to get up until he grew frustrated enough to rip the blankets off completely. Then they made the bed together before Fuuma cooked breakfast, while Kamui hurriedly finished an assignment he'd put off, yet again, scribbling in messy kanji and emitting small noises of frustration as Fuuma hid his smile. Their lives were busy, but blissfully ordinary.

Then the illness hit.

Their happy, content, immensely private life took a drastic turn when Kamui started getting sick. He had had a cold, which turned into a bad cough, which caused him to hack until his throat was raw and sore. It became too painful for him to eat, and he would push away the food Fuuma offered, head shaking in refusal, his body growing thinner and weaker. Then one day, Fuuma came home to find Kamui collapsed on the floor, a stream of blood flowing past his lips to pool on the kitchen linoleum, his fallen English textbook and scattered papers encircling him, red bleeding into Shakespeare's sonnets.

"Why so large cost, having so short lease…And Death once dead, there's no more dying then." was the last line that caught Fuuma's eye as the scarlet liquid stained the white paper.

He was deathly pale, completely unconscious; even Fuuma's loud panicking could not rouse him.

The doctors tested him, scanned him for many possible diseases, fearing a mutated strand of virus above all. But everything came back clean, and Kamui lay half-awake and drowsing, a bewildering medical mystery. Fuuma wrapped his large hands around Kamui's thin, wasted one, squeezing it reassuringly, smiling when he felt a faint one in return. However, when he glanced at his face, it was marred by a dim expression with dull, sunken eyes that Kamui had been fighting to hide, Fuuma knew with sudden certainty that he was dying.

"I can't lose you, Kamui." Tears began streaming freely down his cheeks. "You're all I have left. If I lose you too-" He choked on a sob, the words cut off. "I can't go on."

Kamui's deadened eyes bored into his. "If we stay here, I'll die. But that's the price I paid; we promised that we'd never go back."

Fuuma's eyes widened, feeling an unpleasant stirring in the murky edges of his mind. He pushed it back. "What are you talking about?" It had to be the painkillers, they made people delirious. "You're confused, love."

Kamui shook his head painfully. "It's better that you don't remember. I've been so happy here-" He fell asleep abruptly, slumped like a ragdoll against his pillow, a new habit from the constant medication. Fuuma turned Kamui's hand over, rubbing it worriedly, before glancing down and seeing a large scar snaking across the palm.

"What the-" Fuuma exclaimed, shocked. He didn't remember this mark. There was an unseen rushing in his ears, like a torrential downpour during the darkest morning. Suddenly, the TV noise from the next patient's bedside died down to a quiet hum, and the room flickered before him, and the black void that greeted made him feel that he and Kamui were the only real people in the world.

Abruptly, with the force of a truck slamming into his head, the memories came flooding back.

Imprisonment, anguish. Glass shards ripping though his cousin's palm, a wound _he_ had caused. His long sleep during 1999, the foreordained year. Dragons. A plea from his beloved for someone to save them all. "Anybody, somebody, please. I'll do anything."

The witch who had answered.

"_I will bestow this dream life upon you, but the Savior will die to balance the debt. He will hold the memory of the past world in your stead, Fuuma."_

"_Why must he be the one to pay, when he is giving me an escape?"_

"_He carries the weight of that world's fate and must keep that life a secret from you in order for his Wish to be realized. Besides, suffering doesn't only come from dying: It comes from living without the people who made your life meaningful._"

He stood up sharply, picking Kamui up, ripping him from the cords that bound him to this false realm, the hospital machines going haywire.

"Yuuko!" He shouted.

A large portal ripped apart the air before him, a black hole filled with cold still air that he shivered in as he stepped into a new dimension, his beloved life falling to shambles.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So, you've come back." The long-limbed witch drawled lazily. "I've been expecting you. Was it worth it?"

Fuuma looked down at Kamui's gaunt frame, fading still before his eyes. He hadn't awakened. "No." He whispered hoarsely.

Yuuko smiled at him ambiguously, carefully allowing no pity or sadness to betray her expression. "Are you willing to pay the price?"

"What options do I have?" Fuuma asked desperately.

"You can return to the dream world you've just left and have Kamui's absolute death, or you can go to 1999 and have an indiscernible future, where neither you nor he has any guarantee of life or death. It has not yet been decided; even I cannot see the outcome of the final battle. I warn you that whatever you select, you will not be able to return again. Which is it, Monou-san? I advise you to choose wisely." Yuuko's eyes burned into his, a crimson hue to rival his own.

Fuuma was vaguely aware of her servant-boy, whom he had met briefly before, Wa-something or other, an eyepatch covering his right eye, staring at him, frozen in his sweeping. He was reminded heavily of Subaru and Seishirou, and he shivered.

"I can't lose him. I can't pay that price." He turned to her, a set grim expression hardening his face. "No matter what." He pressed his lips to Kamui's one last time, teardrops falling on his forehead. "I'm sorry. I can't live a life that causes your death." He whispered softly, not noticing that Kamui was beginning to stir.

"All right." Yuuko stood to her full height, garbed in her traditional clothing, the intricate pattern of her magic spreading out in glowing lines below her visitors' feet.

"Do you accept the terms of our agreement, Monou Fuuma, with the price of your foreseeable future?"

Kamui woke hastily, dazed, roused by a tempest of magic pulsating in the air. It took him only a second to recognize where he was, and a second more to realize what was happening.

"No!" He shouted, grasping for Fuuma's clothes. "I would rather die than fight you again, Fuuma. We had agreed to this, Fuuma please, we can't go back, I couldn't bear it, no Fuuma, no, no-" He sobbed and moaned, begged, distraught and terrified, writhing like a weakened wildcat inside of his star's grasp.

"I accept." Fuuma said painfully, seeing at that last moment the strangled look of shock and betrayal crossing Kamui's face at the same moment new life flooded in. He summoned his love for him and tucked it deep inside his heart, hoping that it would be, somehow, enough to save them.

The magical wind blowing around them whipped into a maelstrom, shrieking to the sky, Yuuko's eyes dilated with energy. With a searing pain, the Dragon of Earth burst from the back of his mind where he had been sleeping, claiming his body and awareness once again as he himself began another long slumber, the last words of a dying prayer resting on his lips. Hoping the world, _his_ world- his lover, would survive, hoping that in the end, he would not regret his future.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Written for livejournal's 30smirks community, Theme #22, Future.

Please review! I'm trying to scrounge up time to make these ficlets, and comments mean so much to me. I'm sorry it's taken so long.

And I apologize for the grammar as well, if parts seemed off.


	15. Pulling the Strings

"O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon/ Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse / Without all hope of day!" -John Milton

"A man is his own easiest dupe, for what he wishes to be true he generally believes to be true." -Demosthenes

"Those whom God wishes to destroy, he first makes angry.." -Euripides

**Pulling the Strings **

"Kamui." Kaykyou greeted him by looking up with his grave, meloncholic expression. His dream world swirled around them, curtains billowing and rustling as if embodied whispers were passing through.

"Why did you bring me here?" Kamui spat, struggling wildly as a trapped animal against the wires binding his angular, glittering bat wings. He'd fallen asleep, only to be dragged into a different dream, suspended high into the air on metal strings.

"I took your consciousness here to ask you to end this." Kakyou said quietly, studying Kamui's reaction.

"End this? The battle?" Kamui questioned incredulously. "It's not exactly an easy thing to do, Kakyou. And besides, I need to bring back-"

"Fuuma?" The dreamseer interrupted. He shut his eyes tightly for a second, exhausted even in his sleep. Living, Seeing, of any kind, was becoming too much for him to bear. "Kamui, I know that you wish to return him to the person he once was, but your Fuuma no longer exists."

The Saviour's eyes widened in fright, momentarily stunned. "What do you mean?" He whispered harshly.

"It's his dreams, Kamui; if the real Fuuma was truly alive, he would be asleep in his mind, pushed behind the Dark Kamui's control. But there's nothing there. No waves, no activity, no pulses. When I peered past his surface thoughts, there was a void. It's only a wasteland of gray matter. There's no way your friend is there, if he ever was."

"If he ever was?" Kamui bit out sharply, angered. "You're suggesting that…"

"That the Fuuma you knew was just a vessel for your twin star? Yes. Or that he was a minor personality overtaken and dissipated by the emergence of the Dark Kamui. Maybe he really did love you, and repressed it. The other personality that evolved twisted his leftover emotion of something pure into hatred and lust." He said all of this calmly, a science, knowing all the while that Kamui's world was crumbling around him at his words.

"Can you show me?" Kamui asked, cracking Kakyou's stoic expression with a spike of surprise. The seer concentrated for a moment, their current world wavering and forming into his memory of Fuuma's mind.

Kamui's gasp of shock brought him to the quagmire that made up Fuuma's mind. It was a desert formed of claylike mud, flecked with gray sand. Stretching vast and endless, it was wholly empty of emotions and hope. The sky was green and yellow, darkened by chronic storms and lightning, a photographic negative. There was…Nothing.

It was hollow.

Kamui choked and gulped down his tears. "This is all that's left?" He hovered in the air, still bound by the wires; but now he sank onto them, flesh cutting at the touch, bleeding angry red drops with his wings pinned and tangled, his body limp and drained of his Wish. "Are you serious?"

"Yes." Kakyou replied solemnly. "As serious as I've ever been."

The dream memory fractured and they broke into his common realm.

The wires snapped, sending Kamui heavily down into the floor. He remained almost motionless, his body racked with great sobs as he shuddered. The Seal's wings drew around him, trying to shield him, but they were as broken and bleeding as he was. He curled tight into a ball, cursing the fate that was set upon the twin stars, his hope-fueled fire extinguished. The devastation made his soul ache. The mourning that lay thickly on him was all too familiar to Kakyou, but he did nothing to comfort him.

His own grief had shut him down, blocking all possible ways to comfort others as he drowned into his loss.

XXX

Fuuma smirked at the dark circles ringed around Kamui's eyes, his haunted, crazed expression as they flew up to the top of Tokyo Tower. They were shooting high up into the air, the speed whipping their clothes as they spun wildly around the other, swords drawn at the ready.

"I can't let you keep doing this." His stare was piercing, though his voice quivered.

Then, it seemed as if Kamui had vanished completely. Fuuma screeched to a halt in midair, confused at losing track of his opponent. It was deathly silent, and he heard nothing even as his ears strained for sounds of an enemy approaching.

He reappeared abruptly in front of the Dark Kamui's shocked eyes, shedding tears as he thrust his sword through Fuuma's heart, both falling down to the tower, slamming into the metal frame.

"I'm sorry." He said, scrambling to embrace Fuuma's bleeding form, regret apparent on his tear-streaked face. "I couldn't do anything more to save you." He drew him close and kissed him tenderly, closed his eyes at the ending of the last day of their world together.

Fuuma, dragged up from the murky crevices of his mind, too weak to speak, lasted long enough to watch with glassy eyes as Kamui turned the sword on himself, his body falling slack and his expression finally peaceful. He managed to wonder briefly why he was brought back only to die, why the wishes had turned out this way. It was only too ironic, he thought, fading into black and then nothingness, that the wish-giver's desire to live was the only one that hadn't been granted.

Across town, the liquid poison that he had injected into the dreamseer's veins had finished its coursing, and the man lay cold and blissfully dreamless, face unmarred by any wicked expression of triumph, unbothered by the two he had sacrificed to save himself from his life. Once, he would have never imagined destroying others, manipulating someone into being his puppet. But now- now, he could hear the ocean, and that was all that mattered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Written for livejournal's 30smirks community, Theme #28, Are you serious? which I'm guessing is your reaction to this fic.

A/N: Sorry for making Kakyou a villain! I do think he's such an unfortunate character in X (though no one tops Subaru's mess of a life, in my opinion. Fuuma may be evil now, but he didn't pretend to be nice just for amusement, like Seishirou. But that's a whole other can of worms, so I'm going to stop now.)

I thought it'd be an interesting take on the characters, a bit like how CLAMP made Hinoto a sort of unexpected backstabber, so please forgive me my rather disturbed creative license.

On a completely different note, I just wanted to thank you guys for continuing to read my one-shots and reviewing, because I really do appreciate your opinions so much. Please tell me what you thought of this one!


	16. For A Moment in Time

50 Sentences- X Cast

Sorry, this isn't a F/K entry for 30smirks, it's the Gamma Table of 50 Theme Sentences from the livejournal community of 1sentence, featuring the X Cast. They don't allow you to claim anything but pairings, so I'm posting it here instead. I hope you enjoy it!

Spoilers up to Volume 18. Varies wildly in time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

#1-Ring

Arashi left the ring he'd given her on the nightstand.

#2- Hero

Fuuma turned heads on the street, was followed religiously by Nataku, but his ultimate goal was to destroy and no one would worship him for that.

#3- Memory

Subaru could remember a time when he had loved and been loved back…but it was practically another life, when he'd been alive.

#4- Box

The only way to remember Kotori's voice was to open the music box on her desk.

#5- Run

He wished he could leave Japan and his destiny behind him, but he'd never be able to outrun Fuuma and he knew it.

#6- Hurricane

The swirl of their powers blew against the buildings until the glass shattered.

#7- Wings

Angel wings, bat wings…it didn't matter which one you had if you couldn't fly close enough to the sun.

#8- Cold

It was cold, in the basement where Beast was kept; Satsuki buried herself in numbers and codes and soon she never felt anything at all.

#9- Red

Nataku's scarf was drenched tip-to-tip with blood, but he didn't understand what pain was.

#10- Drink

They all got drunk at their house at CLAMP Gakuen before the final day not because they were celebrating, but because they were afraid of dying.

#11- Midnight

It was the last conversation before their duel, when Kamui grabbed Fuuma's arm and said fiercely, "I forgive you, but I'm not going to lose."

#12- Temptation

The devotion in those green eyes was the only thing that had nearly broken Seishirou.

#13- View

He would be happy if the only thing he ever got to see again was her, and the ocean behind her.

#14- Music

Screams rose above the usual urban noise as his Dragons wreaked havoc on the city; but it was all music to Fuuma's ears.

#15- Silk

Nataku's scarf was the softest thing he'd ever possessed, memories included.

#16- Cover

Fuuma checked in on Kotori before he went to sleep, pulled her covers up from where she'd flung them back in slumber, and said good night.

#17- Promise

"I'm going to protect the world for you and Kotori," Kamui said, before his wish became his nightmare.

#18- Dream

It didn't matter that Hinoto only saw through dreams, when the outside world was just as ugly.

#19- Candle

He sat before the many lighted candles as he chanted, and kept the image of the woman he would die to save centered in his mind.

#20- Talent

Satsuki was one of many talents, and she was well aware of the fact that she'd die from them; Beast had as much control over her as she did over it.

#21- Silence

After his dying words were spoken, Subaru had been too shell-shocked to reply; it was his greatest regret out of many, many heartbeats.

#22- Journey

He had trod through this journey, wounded beyond what he thought he'd ever be able to stand, but what he missed most of all was being whole.

#23- Fire

She'd resented her powers, her flame-red hair, and the devil fury of her fires until she claimed them as her own.

#24- Strength

He was the biggest man she'd ever met, but she didn't realize how she had overpowered him from that first smile.

#25- Mask

It wasn't until Subaru became the Sakurazukamori that he realized how Seishirou would have never survived without his mask; he donned it for himself and blessedly vanished into a shadow.

#26- Ice

It didn't matter if Kakyou's bed was blanketed with ice: he wouldn't feel it and he wouldn't care.

#27- Fall

Sometimes during his great leaps across the Tokyo rooftops, Kamui wonders what would happen if his powers gave out; somehow, he thinks, that'd be the least of his worries.

#28- Forgotten

When Fuuma wasn't there, Kazuki felt as though he had disappeared; when Fuuma was gone, he didn't know who he was.

#29- Dance

They'd stepped around each other since he was sixteen, almost close enough to come together, but the rhythm had broken and they'd spun apart; this time, there wouldn't be another dance.

#30- Body

Seishirou might be dead, but he still owns all of Subaru.

#31- Sacred

Kamui couldn't wait to toss his and Fuuma's sacred swords into the bottom of the ocean, together.

#32- Farewells

Karen clutched Kazuki's body to her, feeling the life drain out, and mourned for the fact that he'd only had a moment to live and she wasted it saying good-bye.

#33- World

Kamui had never wanted to save the world for the sake of _doing_ it; he had just wanted to give it to them.

#34- Formal

Sorata and Yuzuriha had always found it hilarious that two of the loudest seals were raised in temples.

#35- Fever

Kamui wasn't one to boast his abilities, but everytime he came down with fever he feared that his powers would ignite the bedsheets like his mother had done when she initiated her shadow sacrifice.

#36- Laugh

Kotori had had the most beautiful laugh, like distant bells on a cold Sunday morning; Kamui could still hear it when he dreamed.

#37- Lies

Seishirou's words were so beautiful, Subaru could almost ignore the poison beneath them.

#38- Forever

The thing that had finally destroyed Subaru was the thought of being without him forever.

#39- Overwhelmed

At the times when it got to be too much, when he felt he couldn't go on, would die if he tried, he lay out on the rooftop and remembered when they were together.

#40- Whisper

He wanted to become Seishirou, immerse himself completely in the routine of his habits, but the burning of the pentagrams on his hands as he reached for a cigarette reminded him that he never could, not with two seeing eyes and light etched into his skin,

#41- Wait

"No, no, no…" Subaru had sobbed as the bridge gave out from under them.

#42- Talk

Satsuki would never admit it, but her heart fluttered whenever Yuuto came by to chat.

#43- Search

Knowing that Keiichi's family was already dead while he helped him search through the rubble made Kamui want to trade places with them.

#44- Hope

In the final battle, ever since the beginning, hope never left him: it was the only thing that gave him the strength to keep going.

#45- Eclipse

Kamui stared at Fuuma, searching for the pieces of the boy he'd grown up with, and it was like looking for the sun behind the moon: almost impossible to see, but he knew it was there…and he knew it would come back.

#46- Gravity

He'd never been so drawn to someone before, fascinated by the living antithesis to himself, the darkness and the façade in opposition to his former innocence, lulled and repulsed by the scent of sakura; he gravitated to Seishirou's side and he never left.

#47- Highway

Kanoe thought that dream-hopping was like driving on a highway, but the uniqueness of her power kept her isolated; she was free to go anywhere, but could never take anyone with her.

#48- Unknown

They stood in the rubble of the aftermath, wondering where they could go from here.

#49- Lock

Hinoto's other self pinned her arms behind her, and showed her unflinchingly the bitter existence she had lived.

#50- Breathe

Fuuma embraced Kamui's body close to him, swords placed forgotten by their sides, and shed tears when he felt breath steadily against his neck.


	17. In the Midst

"Be wary then; best safety lies in fear." –William Shakespeare, "_Hamlet_"

In the Midst

Watch out! Subaru's instincts had screamed, something in his mind flaring to life like a short-lived star when he had met Seishirou in the train station that first time; then he brushed aside the feelings of unease and focused on the man's charming smile instead.

"Watch out, ojyousan," Sorata smiled at Arashi after she nearly stumbled down a step, reaching out to steady her.

"Inuki, look out!" Yuzuriha screamed as the cables ripped mercilessly into her spirit dog.

Watch out, Karen told herself. Don't get too close to him- they never leave their wives.

_Be wary of those around you_, Hinoto spoke into their minds, her poison red lips curving upwards as her gentler side cried in despair.

"Keep an eye out," Kamui told his Seals before they scattered off across Tokyo.

"Watch out, Kamui," Fuuma's voice rang like bells as he kissed the back of his neck. Kamui could feel his lips smirking through the touch, the contact as light and fleeting as a whisper. He darted forward, managing to lunge away from the shinsen mere seconds before it lashed through the air where his neck had been.

"Watch out, Fuuma," he had told him moments earlier, when the battle began. "I'm going to win."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Written for livejournal's 30_smirks community, Theme #10, Watch Out!

Apologies for the lateness, the showcasing of non-Fuuma or Kamui characters, possible inaccuracy with the Sei/Sub one (I think Seishirou found him for the second time in the train station, but I don't know if they met during that time. I believe it was a Sei-POV flashback in TB), and the overall less-than-awesomeness of this fic. It was a difficult theme for me. Next ficlet should be longer, hopefully sooner, and hopefully more awesome.

Please review!


	18. Fallout

"War is not its own end, except in some catastrophic slide into absolute damnation. It's peace that's wanted. Some better peace than the one you started with." -Lois McMaster Bujold

"If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other." -Mother Teresa

**Fallout**

He'd joined the army after the firebombing of Tokyo destroyed his home; he'd been out on the streets scavenging while the winds scattered live ashes onto their rooftop. The flames had overtaken their small wooden frame house, his mother burned to ash.

Enlisting wasn't so much a decision of pride; after Kotori, his sister, withered away from starvation, it was a matter of mere survival. Soldiers weren't allowed to starve if their lives could be spent otherwise.

He'd done everything he could to save Kotori, stealing into others' houses and taking their ration cards, but the small amount of food, her heart condition, and a spring heat wave had overpowered her.

Despite his small stature, he possessed an excellent strategic mind. His ability to keep moving forward despite hardships impressed his superiors, who promoted him up a rank. In time, fellow soldiers began to regard him as a leader, of sorts.

"All right, Kusanagi, you head around to the west end and keep an eye out for snipers! That thick brush can be deadly. Help those troops shift the artillery to better vantage spots. Arisugawa, check the progress of the new soldiers on the north side. We don't want them making any stupid mistakes. The Americans are landing now, so go!"

He could see the dark shadows of amphibious vehicles slowly making their way to shore. It was an hour before dawn, and the cold sea wind settled deep into his bones, making his body stiff and slow.

They had just finished assembling their land weaponry when the world exploded in shells of bullets. The Americans had managed to overtake the majority of his defenses when he saw him.

A tall, dark-haired (judging by his strong eyebrows) soldier creeping along the brush, so breathtakingly handsome beneath the vise of his helmet. His American uniform nearly hid him in his surroundings in the pre-dawn light. The man tensed, having heard a rustle from the bordering landscape.

"General?" A white-faced private beside him whispered, ripping away his attention. "What do we do?"

His gaze pleaded with Kamui, so uncertain and afraid. A loud bang, then his eyes rolled back into his skull and he dropped to the ground heavily. Stunned and blood-splattered, Kamui looked back to see the American, the barrel of his gun now pointed at him, smoking with the discharge; their eyes locked for a split second, the American's jaw going slack as his rifle lowered slightly. The pain in his eyes was apparent. Kamui needn't take a second glance before he sprinted into the concealing underbrush. Shaken to the core, he tried to get his bearings.

"RETREAT!" He bellowed at his remaining forces and watched them scatter. "Retreat, goddamn it!" Bullets whizzed around him like violent buzzing insects. Cries of torment filled the chilly air, soft thuds echoing as bodies hit the ground. Suddenly, an enemy soldier sprung up before him like a jack-in-the-box, amber colored eyes glowing, a wide smirk on his face; Kamui had seen these kinds of soldiers before, monsters that enjoyed the chaos and the death their uniforms allowed them to cause. A horrible pain ripped through his right shoulder, and that was all he remembered of the war on the island.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a year later, a year after he had woken up in a makeshift hospital floating under the influence of the drugs with his shoulder and arm bandaged to his side, the bone shattered. The government had given him an honorable discharge, his last paycheck, and a black hole of memories that threatened to swallow him whole during his daily life.

The time after the war had been rough for all the people of Japan. He didn't really want to return to Tokyo, and instead headed to Yokosuka, a sleepy fishing town to the south. He was generally withdrawn from others and avoided them in his spare time, walked along the warm sandy shore with his arm hanging limply at his side. He could still use it, but it ached when he rotated it and he usually tried to keep it pressed gingerly against his side.

A general store offered him a job running the front register. He would stare out the window, wipe down the counter, and find a spot outside to eat his bentou box lunch alone, clumsily eating with his left hand. At night, Kamui tried to read, but typically ended up staring unfocused at the page. His dreams were mostly unhaunted by the war. In fact, he usually didn't dream at all, his sleeping hours simply a vast emptiness, like that silently still island before the violence had erupted.

He was one of the lucky ones. Subaru, one of his former classmates, simply couldn't function in real life any more after what he'd been through. He and his twin sister had been staying with relatives in Nagasaki during the war and after her death, he'd given up on everything. The city had been a living hell after the bombing, starving and dying people scattered moaning in the streets. The radiation scarring on his back and the loss of his right eye from the flying debris caused by the shock wave of the atomic blast had outcasted him, had made people turn away from the sight of his devastation. Such a bright, cheerful child, he had no faith anymore. He spent his time in a dark, shuttered room despite the summer heat and spoke to no one.

One noontime, Kamui was on his lunch break, walking in a fog to the cigarette stand around the corner. He didn't smoke too much, but on days when his shoulder ached real badly, he found it a comforting habit to hold something.

Blindly turning the corner, he crashed headlong into someone much broader and much taller than him. Immediately, he cowered away.

"Ex-excuse me," he stammered. He looked up to find familiar eyes, and his mouth dropped open in shock. The American from that war-torn day stood before him, and had apparently recognized him as well. He was even more beautiful in the bright sunlight, his wine-colored eyes widened in surprise. He was in civilian wear, all tan skin and wide shoulders.

His mouth moved, foreign sounding words falling like a deeply-noted verse. Kamui shook his head, confused. "I can't understand you." His exposure to English had been limited during the current occupation. There weren't many Americans who came down from Yokohama to this little town.

"Name?" The tall man said. He pointed to himself and spoke slowly. "Frederick Monroe."

"Oh!" Kamui exclaimed, understanding dawning upon him. "Kamui. Shirou Kamui."

"Kamui." The stranger repeated. He shook his head in slight disbelief. "Kamui."

Kamui held out his hand, a custom he had seen on the store's tiny black and white TV. The American looked at it and laughed. Instead, he held out his arms and folded Kamui into an embrace.

And Kamui, with his wounded shoulder and his scarred mind, tried the best he could to hug him back, head falling down to rest upon this stranger's shoulder. It must have been fate that had brought them, two former enemies, back together in this unknown town. Tears soaked the American's t-shirt as he held on tight, trembling, for once feeling anchored to this life he now had. The world looked so different in peacetime.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Written for livejournal's 30_smirks community. Theme #20, Violence, War.

Notes: The firebombing of Tokyo occurred mostly during March/April 1945. The Nagasaki bomb dropped on August 9th, 1945, which is obviously too short a time for someone to be a well-trained soldier so I tweaked the timeline a bit. I spent a while trying to figure out an English name for Fuuma, and figured 'Monroe' was pretty close to sound as 'Monou'. Frederick is a common enough name that begins with an 'F', so I just stuck to that. The US occupied Japan until 1952.

I just took Japanese history, so I was inspired to write about WWII that didn't concentrate completely on the atomic bomb droppings.

Please review! I'm particularly fond of this ficlet, I'd like to know what you thought.


End file.
